


I'm Taking My Chances

by Heather_Night



Series: Hello, My Name Is Human [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blind Stiles, Courtroom Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Allison Argent, Mentioned Kate Argent, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Resurrection, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 16:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: “What did you do?” Lydia’s strident voice made Stiles’s ears ring.“I did what I had to do.”  Stiles recognized Deaton’s smug tone.“You had to poison him?” Derek growled; it was low and menacing.Poison?  The Purple Bomb had poisoned Stiles with wolfsbane.  Kate had poisoned him in the bar back in San Cielo and if it hadn’t been for Roscoe, he would’ve died.The AI was gone.  Stiles didn’t like his chances.“I introduced something into Mr. Stilinski’s system that the AI should easily be able to counteract.”  Deaton’s explanation left a lot to be desired.“You do remember removing the AI-unit from my body in the hospital, right?”  Stiles barely recognized his own voice; it cracked and wheezed and he didn’t think that was just from adrenaline.





	1. And I Know Who I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go...the last story for my Hurt/Comfort Bingo Card. I've revisited the _Hello, My Name Is Human_ 'verse because it seemed as though some readers wanted a bit more closure for the cast of characters so this is my attempt at doing that. Don't feel compelled to read the other story first as I tried hard to make this a standalone. Of course if you wanted to read the previous story of the 'verse prior to this one I wouldn't talk you out of it.
> 
> As always, please let me know if you think I need to update the tags. This has a rating of Mature.
> 
> A huge, huge thank you to my beta, the award winning, supremely talented m/m author Elizabeth Noble. She had to school me on autonomous body parts among other things. This story is much better for her assistance although as usual I went and played with story afterward so remaining mistakes are mine, all mine. *evil laughter*
> 
> Happy New Year!

Hello, my name is human  
And I know who I am  
(So you keep your answers)  
(I'm not asking questions)  
(I'm taking my chances)

\- _My Name is Human_ by Highly Suspect

 

Derek couldn’t say he was happy with Stiles’s decision but he’d always firmly believed it was Stiles’s to make.

“Are you sure you want to testify at the War Crimes trial?” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d asked the question every day since Stiles had announced his intentions a week ago and so far the human was sticking to his guns.

Stiles frowned at Derek. “Do I want to testify? Not really. But I refuse to let Gerard Argent off the hook for what he’s done.” 

“Then I guess we’d better get going. Cora asked you to join her at her office so she could begin to prep you for your testimony and if we don’t leave now, we’re going to be late.” Derek was a bit in awe of both of his sisters—his older sister, Laura, who headed up the Resistance, and his younger sister, Cora, who would be lead prosecutor against Gerard and the deceased Kate Argent. Derek was accomplished in his own right but he felt like small potatoes next to his sisters.

His boyfriend snorted inelegantly. “I still can’t believe your little sister is a lawyer. I thought she was going to be voted most likely to join the Ultimate Fighting Championship in high school. Although I guess when you break it down, that’s kind of what she did, only her fighting is verbal instead of physical.” 

Supernaturals and humans had coexisted peacefully up until Stiles had been about to graduate high school so unlike the younger generation, he’d spent plenty of time with Stranges or Sinisters, the unflattering nicknames for non humans. Stiles’s best friends were a werewolf and a banshee and he’d been in the same grade as Derek’s sister, Cora, a born werewolf. After that class graduated high school there had been a push to segregate Supernaturals but with the recent exposure of the Argents as the architects of the Purple Bomb, the terrorist act that had started the Supernaturals vs. Humans War, things had begun to settle down.

Stiles shook his head and snorted again; the snort was hard enough that a little bubble of snot blew out and back in. That action pretty much highlighted the fact that his boyfriend was a mass of contradictions. 

The human was lissome, and flexible, his long limbs moving with a coordination that stole Derek’s breath away at times. His long fingers alone were enough to drive Derek crazy; he didn’t even know he had a finger kink until he saw Stiles fidgeting with something in his hands. 

Then there was the snorting—sometimes so hard he ejected liquids through his nasal passages—and the belching. The gum cracking made Derek want to remove his own eardrums. The talking with his mouth open while eating as though cramming foodstuffs into his mouth and then speaking around it was an Olympic event.

The list was really never ending. Fascinating, too. Derek had always thought familiarity bred contempt but in this instance it sucker punched him and drew him in; the more he knew about Stiles, the harder he fell. It might have started with a bond between Derek’s wolf and a sick human, grown through the best sex of his life, but lately Derek felt even more for Stiles.

Derek helped Stiles to his feet and then took his arm, herding him to the elevator so they could take the car into town. 

“I don’t like elevators.” Stiles crossed his arms. He probably made that announcement more than half the time they went out.

Although it was wasted on Stiles right now, Derek crossed his arms, too. “I don’t like the idea of you falling down the stairs.”

Stiles squawked, pushing away from the wall. “One time, Derek. I fell one time.”

“One time too many. I’m not sure how easily you’d mend from a broken neck or crushed spine.” Derek huffed. His wolf rumbled at the back of his mind; the wolf was equally infatuated with Stiles and didn’t take kindly to any threats to his safety.

Shoulders drooping, Stiles sighed. “Touché’.”

Neither of them brought up the presence of the AI within Stiles. The AI had mended Stiles after he’d been poisoned, and worse, but it was supposed to have been removed by Deaton, deemed too dangerous to exist. Derek thought the AI would mend Stiles again if needed but that put Stiles at risk. If someone, like Deaton, discovered the AI was still within Stiles, they could both be eradicated. 

As it was, Stiles was blind as a result of the Purple Bomb and since the AI was supposedly removed from his body his boyfriend spent most of his time in a state of sightlessness. 

The elevator came to an abrupt halt and it was enough to send Stiles careening into Derek’s side. “Oof.”

Derek hauled the lean man into his side. “What car do you want to take?” That was usually enough of a distraction for Stiles.

Predictably Stiles answered, “I’m not really channeling my inner soccer mom today. The Camaro?”

The car was low slung and sleek and pretty much the epitome of a teenage boy’s fantasy ride. Stiles had still been a teen when he’d lost his sight so Derek supposed it made sense he’d be attracted to the sports car. Derek preferred the safety features of the Toyota SUV but not enough to deprive Stiles of his fun.

He got his boyfriend buckled into the seat and they exited the underground parking structure.

“Quit playing with the radio.” Derek swatted Stiles’s hand away from the tuner.

Stiles huffed in annoyance, or at least mock annoyance. His scent was pleased so Derek was certain it was the latter. “Would it be possible to listen to something a little more modern, at least say circa 1990’s?” 

The song changed. “Really, you want me to turn off Queen?” The station was playing _Bohemian Rhapsody_ and Derek never tired of the song.

The human’s scent shifted from pleased to melancholy. “My mom loved them. She really loved this song in particular.”

Derek reached out to change the station. Stiles rarely spoke of his mother and that was something Derek understood; sometimes it was best to let the ghosts rest in peace.

Stiles intercepted Derek’s hand, clutching it in his cool, slim one. “You can leave it.”

Their hands remained linked even as they continued into the down town area. 

Stiles’s cool hand slipped out of his own without warning, turning the volume way down. “Do you hear that rumbling sound?”

Stiles’s own hearing was much more acute than most humans, probably a byproduct of his other senses trying to compensate for his vision loss. Derek listened and heard the noise Stiles had described; it had pretty much been white background noise to his sensitive hearing, blending into the other loud noises his wolf heard. Where was it coming from?

“Stop!” Stiles yelped.

Derek slammed on his brakes and they fishtailed. The loose change in the cup holder rattled ominously as Derek gripped the steering wheel until it creaked. Stiles, thrust forward against the safety belt, braced his hands against the dash.

As they careened to a stop something heavy and light colored slammed into the road ahead of them; it was like a small bomb detonating, shaking the asphalt and everything on it. 

Derek squinted through the dust. It looked like huge chunks of…concrete? He leaned forward, his attention focused upward. A large truck idled on the overpass, it’s flatbed tipped so its contents were forced out.

Out of the truck and into their path.

If Stiles hadn’t heard the noise, they very well could’ve been directly below it when the payload hit.

Derek’s attention shifted to his right. Stiles stared straight ahead, unblinking, left eyelid twitching. “Stiles?”

Shit. When the payload hit the asphalt it _had_ sounded like a bomb going off. The chemosignals pouring off of Stiles advertised his panic ridden state. After the Purple Bomb, who could blame him? To this day Derek was still upset when he smelled too much smoke or saw a fire. Kate Argent, and Gerard for that matter, had created both the bomb blinding Stiles and the house fire that had left Derek an orphan.

“It was concrete, Stiles. Off the back of a tuck on the overpass.” Derek hoped Stiles could hear his explanation.

After a few more seconds Stiles startled, eyelids fluttering, breath hitching. 

“Stiles, it’s okay.” Derek soothed him to the best of his ability with his voice. He’d learned the hard way not to touch Stiles when he was having an absence seizure because it sent his boyfriend’s heart rate rocketing dangerously.

Stiles turned his head, electric violet eyes fading from view to be replaced by whiskey brown. “It’s not okay. We have to go back home. Now.”

The AI hardly showed itself and for it to do so in the light of day, out in public, was an event Derek couldn’t ignore.

“What’s wrong? Why is the—?”

“Can we do this at home? Please?” Stiles pulled his feet up onto the seat and wrapped his arms around his knees. Stiles was more flexible than Derek, that’s for sure. Although he admired the nimble move he wasn’t too thrilled about Stiles’s feet being on his leather seats.

A shiver shook his slim frame.

“Okay. I’m turning around.” Derek wanted to squeeze Stiles’s arm. Actually he wanted to bury his nose against Stiles’s neck, comfort them both.

Derek put words into action and he reversed to gain enough room to turn the Camaro around. He turned the heat up, too. It was too warm of a day for the heat to be on but even Derek felt chilled after the near miss and Stiles was still shivering next to him.

It was easy enough for someone to figure out where they’d been headed and what route they’d take as well as what car to be on the lookout for.

It was easy to guess someone didn’t want Stiles to give testimony at the War Crimes Trial.

They obviously didn’t know Stiles very well. He had a huge streak of stubbornness and they’d just assured the opposite outcome if they’d been trying to warn Stiles away.

Once Derek had comforted Stiles, and himself, he would be ready to hear the story of what the hell had just happened.

-0-

They reversed the course they’d only just taken, riding the elevator up to their floor. This time Stiles was too occupied to complain about not taking the stairs.

Roscoe, the AI, was buzzing in the back of his mind, castigating and cajoling Stiles in equal measure.

Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles’s shoulders and guided him out of the elevator and into their loft. He deposited Stiles on the couch and moved away, into the kitchen, bringing back a glass of water. He even wrapped Stiles’s had around the glass, going so far as to guide the glass to Stiles’s mouth. “I think you’re in shock. You need to drink this.”

Stiles thought he could be forgiven if he was in a state of shock, seeing as a mountain of concrete had almost flattened them. No mistake that, by the way, at least according to Roscoe.

Stiles squelched the desire to giggle when he thought of the name he’d bestowed upon the AI that had taken up residence in his body. He’d named his mother’s Jeep Roscoe when he was a boy and he couldn’t keep calling the AI ‘AI’ even if it was just in his mind so he’d gone with Roscoe. 

He dutifully gulped the water down and allowed Derek to draw him into his arms. Being cuddled by the warm werewolf was no hardship whatsoever.

Once his body quit shaking and Derek had thoroughly scented him, Stiles straightened up and faced his boyfriend. “This is going to sound crazy.”

Stiles realized the AI had activated his vision when he saw Derek motion with his fingers in the universal sign of ‘let me have it’. 

Derek sighed. “Your eyes shifting between purple and brown is crazy. Now out with it.”

Their loft was completely sound proofed otherwise Stiles would worry someone was eavesdropping. Although someone could’ve planted a listening device—

“Stiles, please.”

“Roscoe said that wasn’t an accident. Someone suspects his presence and wanted to hurt me to, you know,” Stiles made the swiping motion across his neck.

“Since when do we call it Roscoe?”

Stiles knew he made a face, probably the same one Derek was making at him, but he blurted out, “That was what I named my mother’s Jeep. Long story. Can we move on please?”

Derek probably felt this impatience when dealing with Stiles, he knew he was difficult to live with, but this was one of the few times Derek seemed to be willfully obtuse. The werewolf came off like he was all brawn and no brain but anyone who led the elite Wolves, and kept up with Stiles, was no slouch in the thinking department. Why couldn’t Derek get with the program?

“Let’s back up. How did, um, Roscoe know that wasn’t an accident?” At least Derek was focusing on the important matter at hand.

“He tapped into the communication bands and heard ‘they’re passing the Tenth Street exit now.’ That’s when I heard the rumble.” Stiles was about to elaborate when he was interrupted.

_Stiles, we have to take certain precautions to ensure our safety but that is not an option._

Stiles was having two conversations here, one filling in Derek on what the AI told him and one with the AI who was freaking out. Apparently freaking out was a step on the evolutionary ladder for Artificial Intelligence.

“Please tell me Roscoe,” Derek made a face when he said the name, “was going to intervene before we got flattened.”

“He was screaming _stop_ right along with me, if that makes you feel any better. He thought about cutting the electrical system to disable the car but he thought that might damage the goods.” Stiles shrugged. He was interpreting the best he could although he was falling short if Derek’s expression was anything to go by.

_Stiles, I do not like what you are thinking._

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign of stress. “Does Roscoe have any ideas about who would want to do that to you?”

Roscoe was buzzing around, making it difficult for Stiles to concentrate. “Roscoe’s working on it. Something about narrowing down the pool of suspects based on who was aware of what went down in San Cielo. Believe it or not, it seems more likely it’s someone associated with the Resistance since the hunters weren’t alive to report what happened and communications were out.” 

Stiles began to methodically gnaw on a hangnail. Derek’s face twisted in disgust at the habit but he didn’t intervene. “What else?”

“What do you mean what else? Isn’t that enough?” Stiles ceased biting at the offending flap of skin. He wasn’t trying to rile Derek up.

Pointing at Stiles’s face, Derek responded, “Now you’re gnawing on your lip. You do that when you’re worrying a problem.”

“Yeah. Okay, you got me. I think Roscoe should exit my body and lay low for a while. He’s not sold on the idea.” Maybe if Derek decided sharing-and-caring hour was over, Stiles could get down to the business of talking in private with the AI.

This constant jabbering was giving him a headache. He now had sympathy for what his dad had gone through, raising him. Young Stiles had never met a thought he didn’t share.

That of course changed with the Purple Bomb.

Everything changed with the Purple Bomb.

-0-

Derek didn’t want to leave Stiles’s side but he knew Stiles had business to discuss with Roscoe. He wondered what the advanced artificial intelligence residing within Stiles thought about the moniker. 

Living with Stiles was always an adventure as Derek could attest to and he bet the AI would agree.

Stepping into the bedroom, Derek grabbed his cell phone and dialed Cora.

“Where the hell are you? Stiles was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.” His sister sounded angry but there was also an edge of worry in her tone.

“Yeah, we’ll have to reschedule. We had a little accident on our way to see you.” Derek kneaded the back of his neck where the tension was pooling.

“Oh my God, are you guys okay? What happened?” Cora didn’t get loud, in fact her volume lowered as though she didn’t want anyone to hear her side of the conversation.

Derek switched from kneading his neck to rubbing his forehead. “It looked like a dump truck on the overpass by 12th Street tried unloading its contents onto the Camaro. We’re okay though.”

“Okay, that’s…okay. I was afraid something like this might happen but I thought we’d have until the start of the trial before someone made a move. I already talked to Laura, we’ll put the safety protocols in place now.” Cora sounded distracted but then again, she was probably multi-tasking.

Stiles wasn’t the sole lynchpin for the prosecution but he was going to lend the human-interest angle to the Supernatural side of the proceedings. He’d been infected by the Purple Bomb and then assaulted by Kate Argent while getting the proof the Argents, not werewolf Peter Hale, had been behind the act that had pushed most humans toward the hunters’ side in the Supernatural vs. Hunters War. 

It turned out to be humans hurting humans for a private agenda, namely putting Supernaturals down or segregating them. Yeah, Stiles’s testimony was important to bringing the war to an end.

Stiles’s wellbeing was more important to Derek.

“Let me know when you want to reschedule and we’ll get Stiles to the meeting, safely this time. Or better yet, we’ll come to you. And Derek, you be careful.” Derek paced back and forth as he listened to his sister. 

A year ago, maybe even six months ago, Derek would’ve taken Cora’s plea to be careful as a slight from when he’d used really poor judgment and gotten more than half of his family killed. Now it seemed like simple concern from his sibling, lacking in judgment.

“Thanks, sis. You, too.” Cora, as lead prosecutor, was in a precarious position herself. Derek couldn’t wait for the court hearing to be over.

The siblings promised to be in touch and they said their goodbyes. 

Derek was eager to get back to Stiles and see how the negotiations were going with Roscoe.

-0-

Stiles looked drawn.

“What’s wrong?” Derek went immediately to his side and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. Sometimes Stiles resisted contact, stiffening up and bristling like a threated cat, but this time he leaned into Derek’s chest.

“Roscoe is being a stubborn ass and it’s wearing me out,” Stiles sighed into Derek’s collarbone. 

“Can an AI be a stubborn ass? I suppose he learned it from you.” Derek was rewarded with a small chuckle from the man in his arms. He forged ahead, “You said Roscoe doesn’t want to leave you, can you tell me why that is?” 

Derek sunk a hand into the messy curls and waves at the back of Stiles’s head, scratching softly. It soothed his wolf and Stiles practically melted into his chest.

Stiles sighed again but this time it sounded less harassed. “Roscoe has decided that I can’t live without him.”

This was an about face from earlier conversations Stiles had told Derek about. He tilted Stiles’s head up so he could see his face. “I thought Roscoe’s prime directive was survival. His survival.”

The snub nose scrunched up. The purple irises gave way to brown. “Roscoe wants to talk to you himself. Is that okay?”

Derek nodded in agreement. He wasn’t a big fan of the AI’s digitally constructed voice, especially when it poured out of Stiles’s mouth, but he wanted to understand what was going on here.

_Hello, Derek. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to explain myself to you personally._

Jolting back a step, Derek stared in amazement. The AI sounded respectful, thoughtful and intelligent. Also, remarkably, human.

“Of course, Roscoe. Why are you and Stiles in disagreement?” Derek was curious as to how the AI would react to being greeted by the nickname.

The AI breezed into its explanation without pause. Perhaps it was used to the moniker if Stiles always referred to it by that name. 

_Stiles believes it will be more difficult for our enemies to eradicate me if we are no longer synced together. I am worried if we divest our mutualistic relationship Stiles will be harmed._

That…actually made sense on both sides. Derek asked for clarification. “When you say Stiles will be harmed, are you saying he’ll be harmed in the act of separating? Or your enemies will harm him and without your protection he’ll be injured or worse?”

The pretty brown eyes stared up, making eye contact with Derek. Brown usually signified the AI unit was present but right now he couldn’t tell if Stiles staring at him, was it Roscoe, or both? At least it didn’t seem as strange as he thought it would to be holding a conversation with the AI unit directly without Stiles playing intermediary.

_Detaching myself from Stiles will cause transitory weakness but he will fully recover from it. I am concerned we would not be able to resume our symbiotic relationship if we bifurcate because his wiring is fragile. Additionally if he is injured without my presence I will be devastated. Stiles is everything to me._

Derek felt his eyebrows shoot up high on his face in surprise. “I thought you were everything? That your presence was needed to end this war now and forever?”

_You will have to forgive me. I was very young when I shared that sentiment. I now realize there is more to life than world domination._

Before Derek could quiz the AI further, the brown irises reverted to electric violet. Stiles fisted his hands lightly in Derek’s V-neck t-shirt. “Sorry, you were about to be treated to Roscoe’s dissertation on why love makes the world go round,” Stiles explained, a wry twist to his lips.

Derek looked deeply into Stiles’s face. The spark that made Stiles his Stiles was there before him even in his damaged eyes. “Do you believe Roscoe?”

“I believe Roscoe believes what he’s thinking. I’m just not convinced Roscoe and me staying together is in our best interest. Fortunately I still have the final say.” Stiles let his forehead tip forward, leaning it against Derek’s shoulder. “I’m hungry.”

For such a slim man, Stiles could pack away the food when he was in the mood. Or maybe this was just his way of changing the subject. Although rarely did he display an appetite so Derek planned on providing food as soon as possible to take advantage of the situation. “Okay, tell me what you’re in the mood for and I’ll see what we have.”

Derek allowed the change of subject. Stiles said Roscoe was stubborn but Derek thought he knew where the AI unit might have learned that personality trait and the blame rested squarely with the AI’s human host. 

If Stiles wanted to talk about how to handle the situation, he would bring it up and it wouldn’t do Derek any good to force the conversation.

-0-

The doorbell rang announcing the arrival of his friends. Stiles still asked for confirmation. “I take it Scott and Lydia have arrived?”

Derek chuckled. “Yep, and they’re bickering over Scott’s parking job. Apparently Lydia is taking issues with his ability to parallel park.” His voice moved away as he left the living room.

“Sounds about right. He’s used to riding his motorcycle, not the car,” Stiles shared, defending his buddy.

“Thank you! That’s what I’ve been saying.” Scott’s voice boomed around the loft.

Lydia’s heels clicked across the hardwood floor. “He insisted on driving, he thinks his werewolf reflexes will keep us safer, but I swear we almost got in two accidents on our way here. Next time I’m driving.”

Someone plopped next to him on the couch. A burst of floral perfume wafted over him. “Hi Lydia, how have you been?”

“I’m fine, thank you, although I don’t know how they expect me to get anything done when I’m constantly being shadowed.” He sensed her moving closing and sure enough, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But I suppose it’ll be worth it in the long run.”

Someone collapsed into the chair across from the couch. “I don’t like it. I mean I can keep myself safe, and so can Lydia, but you’re pretty much a sitting duck.” Scott, would never learn; disparaging Stiles would only make him more determined. He meant well but those were fighting words and Stiles’s blood pressure shot upward.

“I have a certain AI unit synced to me. I’m also living with a werewolf, the highly trained leader of the Wolves. I don’t consider myself defenseless.” Stiles did a fair imitation of a growl.

Stiles heard the sound of hands scrubbed through hair; it was a Scott mannerism. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just I’m not sure you should be testifying at the trial. I’m worried about you.”

“Scott, we’ve been over this. We’re all worried but this is Stiles’s decision and I support him.” Lydia came to his defense but then again they’d been roommates even after the Purple Bomb. She knew he was capable even for a defenseless human.

Derek rejoined them. “Here, I’ve brought coffee and some cookies. The cookies were made by Erica so beware.”

“Please tell me she didn’t confuse the regular sugar with the brown sugar again.” Stiles accepted the mug handed to him. Erica was always plying him with home baked goods—sometimes the fruits of her labor weren’t edible but he appreciated the thought behind it.

Derek had provided a nice distraction most likely on purpose, too. If Scott had kept on, Stiles would’ve ripped into him. 

The True Alpha and the head of the Wolves had gotten along fine during the mission but afterward…not so much. Stiles wouldn’t exactly say they were both vying for his attention but jealously was involved to some degree. He thought Scott was jealous of the time Stiles spent with Derek and his boyfriend envied the friendship between Stiles and his boyhood friend. So far he’d avoided saying anything to either one of them but he got the sense Lydia had tried to address the situation. No one had said anything but Stiles liked to think his other senses had more fully developed in the absence, or partial absence, of his vision. 

“Hey Derek, can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?” Scott asked.

“Sure. Be right back.” Derek made sure the coaster was within easy reach before he left the area.

Stiles huffed in annoyance. 

Lydia patted his arm. “They both care about you but I think Scott is about to make an ass out of himself. While they’re otherwise occupied, why don’t you tell me how things are going?”

“Going with Derek? Going with the trial? Going with the AI?” Stiles scrunched his nose up. He hoped Derek and Scott wouldn’t be in the kitchen so long he’d have time to cover all of those topics. He missed Derek’s warmth.

“You pick which one. But you might want to make it quick since their voices are getting louder and I might need to separate them.” Lydia still sounded good humored about the situation.

Stiles rubbed his hands together. “Okay, I pick the AI. Roscoe said he picked up chatter on the communication bands that someone was trying to kill us. Both of us. I’m considering separating from Roscoe.”

“Oh.” Lydia packed quite a bit of emotion into that one word. Sadness was probably the strongest but that made sense since Lydia had created the AI. “I mean if you’re no longer synced then there’s a good chance you never could be again. I know Deaton said quite a bit of damage had been done in the neurological pathways when the AI discharged all of that energy.”

Nodding his head, Stiles agreed. “I know, Roscoe has explained it. Thoroughly. I just thought it would make it harder for someone to get us both if we’re no longer in my body.”

Lydia grabbed his arm. “But Stiles, if something happens to you…”

“I know. I’m back to square one with being a fragile human. I just don’t see the sense of having a target on my back and jeopardizing this amazing piece of technology.” Stiles felt a jolt in the back of his head. “Excuse me, amazing synthesized being on the verge of evolving into something closely resembling a human.”

He could hear the smile in Lydia’s voice. “Hello Roscoe. It sounds like you’re doing well.”

Just then the raised voices in the kitchen cut off. “Stiles, I need to get going. I’ll call you later.” Scott was heading briskly toward the door if his quick footfalls were any indication.

Lydia stood up. “I’ll call you, too. Bye Stiles. Bye Roscoe.” 

Stiles smiled; even if the visit had been a loss, he was amused by Lydia calling the AI by the nickname Stiles had bestowed on him.

Once the door closed, Stiles put his hand out. “Come and tell me all about it. Or at least help me eat these cookies before they go stale.”

-0-

Derek sprawled onto the couch next to Stiles. He was emotionally exhausted from Scott’s little tirade.

“So, you wanna talk about it? If not, eat up. This batch turned out really well. Be sure to tell Erica that the next time you see her.” Stiles’s demeanor was upbeat but his chemosignals were broadcasting his dejection.

Sometimes it seemed like everyone was against them but then Derek had only to look at Stiles and know this was the most balanced, healthiest relationship he’d been in.

Shaking off his fatigue, Derek reached for a cookie. Oatmeal chocolate chip. He took a bite. These were good. 

After he swallowed, Derek reminded Stiles of previous conversations. “You know Erica likes you. Hell, all of the Wolves like you. They’re just a little leery after that impressive display you and Roscoe put on at San Cielo.”

Stiles snorted and the gulp of coffee he’d just swallowed tried to emerge from his nostrils. Derek sighed and handed him a napkin without comment.

After cleaning up, Stiles shrugged. “Erica likes me. Boyd tolerates me. Isaac hates me guts. It’s your opinion about me that matters though. Right?” The chemosignals were broadcasting a mix of emotions but the overriding one at the moment was unease.

Derek wasn’t the only one who seemed to need reassurance. 

“You’ve got some cookie crumbs next your mouth. Let me just get that for you,” he leaned in and licked the skin. His lips wandered until they brushed Stiles’s pink Cupid’s bow mouth. 

Stiles relaxed into the kiss and soon they were both breathless. 

“Mmm, thanks for the clean up.” Stiles batted his eyelashes at Derek. At the moment his irises were electric violet in color; either Roscoe was doing other things or Stiles had asked him to leave his vision alone. The two were still hotly debating whether or not to split apart and Stiles seemed to be trying to prepare himself for that eventuality by practicing what it would be like when he no longer had Roscoe’s assistance.

What a life.

“You know I never did hear the whole story of why Isaac hates your guts.” Derek cringed at the phrasing he’d used but Stiles didn’t seem to find anything wrong with it.

“He blames me for Allison’s death. Everyone thinks Allison and I were caught out on the concourse when the bomb went off because I was sneaking off campus to see a secret girlfriend and she was tagging along. That’s not the case but at first we were afraid to tell Isaac anything and put him in danger and then later we couldn’t get Isaac to shut up long enough to tell him anything so we finally quit. I resented him a long time for replacing me as Scott’s best friend but I’d thought we’d gotten past that…until this happened.” Stiles gestured to his eyes. Then he narrowed his eyes. “I’m on to you, buddy. You’re trying to change the subject. Spill. What was Scott’s problem this time?”

Derek leaned back against the couch cushions and sunk down, making himself comfortable. “Scott thinks I’m taking too many chances with your life, that I can’t protect you and I’m just using you.”

“Using me for what?” Stiles crinkled his nose up. “My hot body?”

Derek ignored Stiles's comment but he fought to keep the smile from his face. “I don’t know. I just let him vent so he could get it all out. I know he’s worried about you and that’s why he treats me this way.” Derek’s wolf grumbled. True Alpha or not, the wolf had wanted to throw down when Scott had suggested Derek wasn’t fit to take care of Stiles.

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand; even without his vision he was good at figuring out where to find Derek. “At least we’ve reached our quota of visitors for today. Do you want to take a nap?”

“Is nap code for something else?” Derek climbed to his feet, tugging Stiles up next to him.

The lopsided smile made an appearance, melting Derek’s heart and tightening his groin. “I think we should find out.”

-0-

Stiles paced around the living room, moving at a leisurely but constant speed. He wanted to go outside and stretch his legs but he’d agreed to stay inside in the hopes he’d make less of a target.

“What are you doing?” Derek returned from cleaning up their meal.

“Climbing the walls?” Stiles threw a smile over his shoulder.

Derek sounded like he was pinching the bridge of his nose; Stiles had seen him do it countless times and was pretty certain he could pick out the sound when it happened. He felt some level of guilt but at the same time, he was full of nervous energy and he needed to do something to expel it.

Stiles was about to suggest they exercise some of his energy off in the bedroom when he heard Derek tapping away. “Who are you texting?”

“I’m checking with Laura. I thought maybe we could test her security contingent by taking a walk outside. Don’t get your hopes up too much though, she might nix the idea.” Stiles’s steps slowed and then halted when he heard Derek’s words.

“I have a contingency plan if that falls through,” Stiles teased although getting some fresh air sounded really appealing.

The smile was apparent in Derek’s reply. “I’m sure we can fit both types of exercise in if we try real hard.” His phone pinged an incoming text. “It looks like you’ll get your wish. I’m going to grab you something warmer to wear and then we can head out.”

Stiles let out a whoop and it reverberated around the loft. Derek huffed but he didn’t chide Stiles for being excessively loud.

“Here, I grabbed a hoodie.” Derek helped Stiles into the garment—his excitement over the outing turned him into a fumble fingers—and then they headed out the door, down the hallway and into the elevator.

He opened his mouth to comment on how much he disliked the elevator but decided it wasn’t worth the effort to whine about it. Stiles was going to get to move around outside so he would put up with the metal death box as it groaned its way to the first level.

The elevator jolted seconds into their journey. Derek wrapped his hand around Stiles’s bicep, keeping him from falling to the floor.

Roscoe began reciting a litany of problems, foremost that someone was hacking the elevator system and wanted it to stop at the second floor. “Derek, we’ve got a problem.”

Derek, who had been trying to dial out with his cell phone and didn’t seem to be having any success, answered tersely, “Tell me.”

Stiles held his hand up and flashed two fingers. If someone could hack into the system then they probably could hear their conversations. They might also be able to see them but there wasn’t anything Stiles could do about that at the moment.

His boyfriend guided him into a corner and Stiles heard a hinge opening. Despite the threat of discovery, Roscoe enabled his vision and Stiles saw Derek disappearing into a trapdoor at the top of the elevator car.

Derek thrust his hand downward and motioned for Stiles to jump.

Stiles had wanted exercise but this wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind. He gathered himself and then took two steps before springing upward.

Fortunately Derek latched onto his wrists and pulled him upward until Stiles was standing beside him on the top of the car. After closing the trapdoor Derek motioned for Stiles to wait while he jumped and grabbed the metal ladder like structure embedded in the wall. Stiles was sure it was intended for maintenance purposes, not as a mode of escape.

They both heard the commotion below them and despite the dark elevator shaft Stiles could still make out the concerned look on Derek’s face. His boyfriend motioned Stiles to join him on the metal rungs.

Roscoe was monitoring communications and it sounded like Laura’s security detail was engaging whoever the hell was trying to get into the elevator. Maybe they could wait it out right here.

Some sort of explosive device from below shook the surface Stiles was standing on top of and that’s all the added incentive he needed to spring into action. Never doubting Derek would catch him, Stiles made an uncoordinated leap. 

Once again Derek latched on to him and kept him close. Stiles would’ve flat out been panicking if he were with anyone other than Derek. He trusted his boyfriend with his life.

Stiles wrapped his legs around the werewolf’s waist and twined his arms around his upper body. It was an odd place for a piggyback ride but with Derek’s werewolf strength he made it work.

They quickly ascended. Roscoe indicated the fourth floor, the location of Derek’s loft, was clear and Stiles tapped Derek’s shoulder and then shoved four fingers in his face. 

Clinging tightly, Stiles buried his face in Derek’s shoulder. He barely suppressed a yelp when they swung into space but Derek quickly guided them through the doors he’d pried open and onto the floor.

Before Stiles could catch his breath, Derek swung Stiles into his arms and sprinted down the hallway. Stiles couldn’t say he appreciated being treated like a damsel in distress but he was too eager to get into the loft to protest. His boyfriend set him down on his feet long enough to engage the biometric security and let them inside.

As soon as the door swung shut and the security system was engaged, Roscoe went berserk.

_Stiles, I still do not know the identity of the attackers but I know what they want. They want to terminate the both of us!_

“Roscoe, _please_ , you’re giving me a _headache_. I understand your concern but let me catch my breath,” Stiles realized he spoke aloud when Derek gave him a searching look.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “According to Roscoe, that team was sent here to terminate both me and Roscoe.”

Derek drew Stiles into a strong hug. His boyfriend rubbed his hand up and down Stiles’s spine, soothing him. “I never would’ve suggested we leave if I thought this was going to happen. You could’ve died.”

Stiles smacked the back of Derek’s head. “Well you could’ve died, too. We’re going to have to figure something out because I won’t have anyone else I care for dying on my account ever again.”

-0-

“Stiles, what do you mean? No one on our side died in San Cielo.” Derek didn’t know all of Stiles’s back history but this sounded like something that had been weighing on him. Maybe the timing was wrong but Derek wasn’t going to let the opportunity to get more information pass him by.

Stiles buried his face against the side of Derek’s neck and shuddered out a breath. “Allison Argent. It was Allison who recognized a bomb was about to detonate and she threw herself over me. I know you don’t have a good history with the Argents but Allison, she was really something special. Smart. Fierce. She shouldn’t have died for me.” 

Derek hugged Stiles so closely he heard his ribcage creak. He hadn’t known the specific details of the bombing other than Allison had perished but Stiles had lived. 

Easing off a little he rocked back and forth. Soothing Stiles. Soothing himself. “Allison obviously cared for you and felt the same. I’ve spent a good part of my life blaming myself for what happened to my family and it didn’t do any good. It didn’t bring them back and it made me miserable. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you if I can help it.”

Leaning back, Stiles stared into Derek’s face. “What happened to you totally sucked. But from what you’ve said, you were a minor. Everything that happened, that was on Kate.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any better,” Derek shared quietly. He hated talking about the past but he knew Stiles wouldn’t hold it against him.

“No, I do understand that. And Allison made a huge sacrifice to save me and I don’t want to diminish what she did in any way. I just sometimes feel like she could’ve done more for the cause than I have,” Stiles confided, biting his lip.

Before Derek could say anything in response, Stiles jerked out of his arms and clapped his hands on each side of his head. “All right! I know.”

“What’s wrong?” Derek hovered by Stiles’s elbow. He wanted to touch but he didn’t want to crowd his boyfriend.

Stiles lowered his hands, face scrunched in pain. “Roscoe wants us to quit talking and figure out a plan.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’s hand and tugged him toward the couch. They both sank into the comfort of the cushions before Derek leaned toward Stiles. “What does Roscoe think we should do?”

“He says we have two options—run or gun,” Stiles explained.

“What do you want to do?” Derek probed when the silence became unbearable.

Stiles’s eyes glistened with moisture. “I have a physical scheduled with Deaton tomorrow. I don’t want to risk him finding evidence of Roscoe. Lydia was convinced Deaton was going to put me down after San Cielo, too worried about all of the firepower Roscoe had at his fingertips.”

A shiver snaked up and then down Derek’s spine. He’d borne witness to Roscoe’s power, the AI decimating Kate and her hunters with a blast of energy filled with light, sound and pain.

Derek didn’t have a chance to respond because Stiles continued speaking but this time he was talking to the AI. “I know, buddy. I don’t want to be separated either. I’ve gotten used to you even if you can be a pain in the ass.”

Sitting around, doing nothing, was difficult for Derek since he was accustomed to action. He wanted to support Stiles though so he forced himself to relax. “What do you need?”

Stiles scrubbed both of his hands over his face. “Now that a decision has been made, I don’t really want to wait any longer. Roscoe said it would be best if we do this in the bedroom.”

Derek rose to his feet and held his hand out. Stiles took it, his hands chilled, and let Derek pull him upright. Even though Stiles didn’t need the help, Derek kept his arm curled around his waist as he guided him to the bedroom.

-0-

Stiles sank down onto the edge of the bed and grabbed the picture cube. A shiver of déjà vu shook his spine as he remembered doing this very thing before he’d fully activated Roscoe before the mission.

He rubbed his fingers lightly over the first picture, tracing his mother’s face in his parents’ wedding picture. The next picture of his parents holding up a baby, Stiles, made him smile; they’d been an attractive family and he was obviously well loved. Allison and Scott during high school prom was a nostalgic blast from the past. The pic of he and Lydia as they moved into their apartment at the edge of campus tickled him because as far as he knew it was the only proof that his friend ever appeared disheveled. 

The final picture was the aftermath of the Purple Bomb. Stiles wouldn’t miss seeing the proof of all of those lives ruined and he no longer needed the motivation to move forward with a risky plan. His motivation this time was to shed truth on the deeds of Gerard and Kate Argent.

Stiles set the picture cube down on the bedside table and turned to look at Derek. Tall, dark and handsome was an apt surface description but didn’t do justice to the real Derek Hale. 

Sure, on the outside Derek was a prime specimen with a chiseled body and face. He had a rock hard body, slight cleft in his chin and pretty hazel eyes. It was the inside that separated Derek from other attractive guys. He had a certain presence. He was guided by the need to protect those he cared for. He was far smarter than he gave himself credit for. He was actually a sweet guy beneath the gruff exterior.

Stiles didn’t know if he’d ever see Derek again—Roscoe doubted they’d be able to sync after this—but it was the best possible last sight Stiles could wish for.

Leaning back against the pillows, he extended his hand toward the bedside table where the nearest piece of electronics, a music docking system, perched. 

_AI disengaging._

Stiles felt his lips moving, heard the voice, but he ceded control to the AI nano-unit that had resided within him.

It might be the last time he was that close to another being again and Stiles felt a tear track down his face at the thought.


	2. I'm Taking My Chances

Derek had expected more pomp and circumstance but in the end, the AI had withdrawn from Stiles’s body with barely a fizzle.

Stiles’s body had bowed on the bed, the music system had buzzed to life and then his boyfriend’s eyes had snapped open to display his purple eyes

Now Derek cuddled Stiles close to his side as they entered Deaton’s office. Stiles definitely looked rough with gray tinged skin, bloodless lips and dark smudges beneath his eyes but he was upright and moving under his own steam. His gait was a bit off, the other man sometimes tilting from one side to the other, but it didn’t seem to bother Stiles so Derek hadn’t mentioned it.

“Good morning, gentleman. Stiles, why don’t you hop up on the exam table? I’d like to draw some blood after I take your vital signs.” Deaton wore his white lab coat while he bustled efficiently around the room.

Derek helped Stiles settle onto the exam table, brushing an unruly strand of hair away from his eyes. He already missed the warmth of the honey brown colored eyes but the cool electric indigo was startling and somehow fit Stiles’s face. The price—loss of vision and other neurological problems—was steep but at least it gave Stiles a better shot of living through this trial.

“Thank you, Derek. You can wait, I’ll get you when we’re finished,” Alan Deaton tried shooing Derek away.

Stiles piped up. “No! I want Derek to stay with me. Please.” 

There was a slight edge of emotion to his plea and Derek made eye contact with the doctor. Deaton nodded his acquiescence with a thoughtful tilt to his head.

Derek took Stiles’s hand in his own and squeezed it. “I’ll stay right here as long as you want me to.”

“Thank you,” Stiles answered. “So, um, what’s up doc?”

That was the most Stiles-like thing his boyfriend had said since the transfer of the AI unit. A bit irreverent but said with enough humor that it shouldn’t offend.

Deaton quirked his lips into a small smile. “This exam shouldn’t take too long. I just want to measure any changes in the residual late effects from the bombing.”

Stiles’s shoulders slumped at the doctor’s words but when Derek squeezed his hand again, the human sat up straighter. “Okay, fire away.”

Derek distracted Stiles with stories of Erica and Boyd apartment hunting while Deaton drew several vials of blood. Stiles rested his head on Derek’s shoulder and stared blankly ahead. 

Deaton spent a lot of time staring into Stiles’s eyes with the ophthalmoscope—Stiles had asked what the medical device was called, once again showing signs of his inquisitive self—and the doctor remained completely quiet while keeping his features blank during the examination. The light shining from the ophthalmoscope would’ve given Stiles’s a headache if his optical nerves were functioning.

Once Deaton had stowed his equipment away, he returned to Stiles, observing him closely. He finally cleared his throat. “You’re in remarkably good shape considering your medical history. I noted some mild deterioration with your balance but nothing worrisome. The number and severity of absence seizures seem to be consistent with what you reported during previous visits. The only other issue I’ve observed is possible symptoms of insomnia. Do you want talk about that?”

Stiles pulled a face but then his shoulders rounded, relaxing. “I’ve been having some dreams that are pretty vivid. They interrupt my sleep.”

Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles’s middle; with him sitting atop the exam table he was at the perfect height to lend the protection of his arm around Stiles’s waist. Stiles’s sleep was always interrupted but previously Derek had attributed it to the presence of the AI. Now Roscoe was gone and his absence was affecting Stiles just as much although it had only been one night since they’d separated. 

Deaton scratched the scruff on his chin. “I could prescribe something for that if you like. Or maybe you would like to speak with a therapist about possible Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or other after effects from Kate Argent’s assault? That’s something we haven’t discussed previously.”

That resonated more with Derek than it seemed to with Stiles; his boyfriend continued to lean into his side but Derek turned his full attention on the doctor. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not my area of expertise but after both the physical and sexual assault to Stiles PTSD would be a normal response. I can give you more information on that but I want to mention if you find an event triggers you and you have symptoms of an anxiety attack, it’s important to get somewhere you feel safe and secure.” 

Stiles’s expression remained blank. “I don’t really want to take any more medications right now. As for the other…I’d like to think about it.”

“Of course, Stiles. If you have any problems before your next scheduled appointment please don’t hesitate to call my office. I’m very interested in your well being.” Deaton patted Stiles’s knee awkwardly and Stiles flinched backward but it was subtle.

Derek thought of the game he and Boyd liked to play, True/False, in which they listened to a human’s heartbeat and interpreted chemosignals to determine if they were telling the truth. The doctor was nearly impossible to read but his last statement had definitely registered as being true.

Helping Stiles down from the exam table, Derek was pleased to leave the doctor’s office behind. The faint smell of disinfectant and rubbing alcohol tickled his nose but the unease pouring off of Stiles was even more disquieting.

He also wanted to put a little distance between himself and the whole assault conversation. Derek hadn’t given much thought to Kate’s actions towards Stiles, not since watching and hearing their interactions in San Cielo, and the thought of Stiles being violated made him nauseous.

He could only imagine how Stiles felt. He wanted to make sure Stiles knew he could talk to Derek but he wasn’t good when it came to talking about feelings and emotions so for now he’d just wait. 

-0-

“So what brings you to the loft, Pops? I thought you’d be getting prepped for your testimony by the Terrible Trio,” Stiles teased he dad.

Stiles had taken to referring to Laura, Lydia and Cora as the Terrible Trio because they were a force of nature when they put their heads together.

Derek had gone out to meet the Wolves; his boyfriend hadn’t wanted to take a security detail but Laura had prevailed. Stiles’s pout might’ve also had something to do with Derek’s capitulation.

Stiles was stuck inside, his own security detail in place, but Derek hadn’t wanted to leave him alone. It was a good thing Stiles had wanted to visit with his dad otherwise he might’ve pitched a fit. He wasn’t a kid in need of babysitting.

“Laura was understanding when I said I wanted to spend some time with you.” Implied was that Lydia and Cora were not so understanding.

Smiling in the direction of his dad, Stiles said, “I’m glad you could come over. It’s been crazy ever since the whole San Cielo thing.”

Silence greeted his statement and Stiles became worried. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

His father swallowed loudly and took a shuddering a breath. “I’m just so damned proud of you, son. Your mother would be proud of you, too, I just know it.”

Stiles gave a classic response—embarrassment in the form of heat climbing across his face and neck. “Dad, we knew you were alive. Scott could feel the pack bonds with Melissa and with you. We couldn’t just go on with our lives as though nothing had happened. We had to do something.”

“Well the way I understand it, you sacrificed a lot to make it happen. Laura Hale is certainly a big fan of yours.” Stiles blushed again at his dad’s words of praise but he hoped there wouldn’t be any questions about what exactly Stiles had sacrificed. He didn’t want to talk about that, certainly not with his dad.

Stiles flung his hand out and waited for his dad to get with the program and grab it, squeezing it tightly. “Mom would’ve been proud of you, too. She would’ve teased you for being rounded up and jailed but you, Melissa and even Chris really were a thorn in the Argents’ sides. You stood up to them when no one else would.”

The creak of couch cushions was the only warning had before the sheriff enfolded Stiles into his arms. “I’m relieved to hear that, Stiles. Chris, Mel and I talked a lot about how we might have done more damage than good. We helped light a flame to the war but it was you and Scott and the others who ended up fighting it. The children had to fight the war their fathers, and mothers, had started. It was so unfair.”

Shrugging lightly, Stiles stayed buried against his dad’s chest. “My only regret is Allison. She shouldn’t have died, especially not saving me.”

“Stiles, you can’t weight one life’s importance over another. That’s what the Argents did and you can see how well that worked out for them. For the record, Laura said we wouldn’t have won if it hadn’t been for you. Not Scott, Derek, Lydia or Allison but you.” Stiles felt moisture against the side of his neck but he didn’t know if it was from his dad or him.

Leaning back, Stiles swiped a hand across his face. “So it sounds like you, Chris and Mel got pretty tight while you were prisoners of war. How tight exactly did you get?” Stiles needed to break the tension somehow and clutched on to the idea of the threesome being, well, a threesome.

He expected an exasperated _Stiles_ for his dad but instead he got nervous laughter. “Um, who told you?”

Stiles felt his jaw dropped open. Once the words really registered with him, he said at a higher volume than usual, “I was kidding! Are you serious? Or should I say, are you serious about them?”

“It’s all still pretty new but I trust you’ll keep it quiet until we figure things out.” His dad, the sheriff, still sounded nervous.

“I’m not going to tell a soul.” He smiled. Stiles wasn’t going to lie, it was weird to think of his parent in a romantic relationship anyway and the thought of him maybe having two partners…it would take some adjusting but Stiles didn’t see a problem with it. “So now that you’re free, are you going to resume your duties as Sheriff of Beacon County?”

His dad laughed and this time it was hearty instead of tentative. “No way. Jordan Parrish is doing a fine job.”

“For such a young whippersnapper you mean?” Stiles ribbed his dad some more. He did have a lot of time to make up for after all.

“Har, har. He’s young but he’s getting the job done. No, Laura has asked that I join the transition team. We need to shift from war mode to healing.” His dad sounded enthused about his upcoming role.

Noah Stilinski might have been in law enforcement but he had always excelled at community policing. 

His dad squeezed his elbow lightly. “Enough about me. Do you have any long range plans?”

“I thought I’d give up my life of drudgery and instead live a life of luxury with my rich boyfriend.” Stiles rolled his eyes and the action made him dizzy for a moment. “Whoa, I need to cut back on that.”

His dad snorted; Stiles had always wondered if he’d learned that from a parent and he was taking this as confirmation. “I’m sure Derek would be devastated if you decreased your eye rolling. I’ll have to ask him later about it. But for now, back to the subject at hand: Have you given any thought to what you want to do?”

Stiles shrugged. “I’ve got a few options but I wanted to wait until after the trial. I could work with Lydia on the AI program.”

The music system in the living room gave a burst of loud noise and then went silent. 

The couch shifted as his dad stood up. “What the hell was that?”

“Oh, our music system has been acting up. Derek’s going to look at it later.” Stiles would’ve glared at the offending piece of electronics but he didn’t want his dad to pick up on any other strange phenomena, like an AI that wasn’t supposed to exist communicating through the household appliances in the loft.

So far Roscoe had only given short bursts of white noise from the music system in the bedroom; this was the first inkling Stiles had that Roscoe was on the move. The AI also seemed to want to weigh in on Stiles’s future.

“Do you want some coffee? I think Derek left some coffee cake for us, too. Laura brought it over.” Usually food worked as a distraction; like father, like son. 

“Okay, let’s move to the kitchen.” His dad left the living room even before the words were out of his mouth and Stiles shook his head in bemusement.

His father didn’t fawn over Stiles and treat him like an invalid. It was refreshing. Even humanizing.

If his dad hadn’t already been one of his favorite people then he would’ve been added to his short list now.

Stiles might be visually impaired and suffer some neurological disorders but he was still capable.

-0-

Derek’s phone rang as he was getting ready to leave Erica’s apartment and he tensed up. It was hard not to expect the worse, especially when Stiles was danger prone.

It was his sister Laura and he greeted her cautiously. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m actually outside with your entourage. Can I catch a ride to your loft with you?” 

“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re the General of the Resistance. You can pretty much do whatever you want,” Derek mocked his sister.

“Well this isn’t official business. I was in the area and wanted to see you. Is that okay?” Laura didn’t seem upset so at least that was something.

“Just happened to be in the area, right. We’re coming out now. See you in a minute.” Derek let the security team do their thing and let himself be hustled out to the Hummer acting as his transportation.

Climbing into the back, he bared his throat to his alpha and then they hugged like the siblings they were.

Derek cleared his throat. “So I’m happy to see you but what exactly is going on? You’re being cagey.”

Laura’s eyes crinkled when she smiled. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. I know this whole thing has been stressful.”

“I don’t mind the danger and intrigue for myself so much but I’m worried about Stiles,” Derek confessed. 

“Well I’m worried about both of you but yes, Stiles had a penchant for finding trouble. Or it finds him. How’s he holding up? Your escape through the elevator shaft can’t have been easy on him.” Laura tilted her head and Derek’s heart gave a pang; his sister not only physically resembled their mom but she had many of her mannerisms. 

Derek remembered their rush out of the elevator to safety when someone had tried to take Stiles by force. His wolf had outrage by the whole situation but his human partner had completely trusted him and that had made a difference. Surprisingly, Stiles had seemed to take it in stride. “I think he’s holding up okay. I know he’s having some nightmares but after everything he’s been through, it’s a pretty natural reaction. Fortunately he doesn’t get crabby when he’s tired, just rambles a bit.”

Laura giggled. “Stiles rambled more than a little before the mission. Lydia’s good at shutting him down if you need tips.”

Heat surged over Derek’s face and neck. “I, ah, actually like it when he rambles. It’s when he gets quiet that I worry.”

“Is he still having absence seizures?” Laura’s amusement was replaced by concern. 

“Not as bad as before but he’s had some mild balance problems and I know he has a hand tremor. If Kate wasn’t already dead, I’d hunt her down for what she did to Stiles.” Derek scowled.

Laura patted his arm. She might look dainty but she was an alpha and those pats packed a punch. Derek rubbed her arm as she cocked an eyebrow at him. “I think we’re actually going to win the trial. Gerard is going down.”

“Yeah, although without the humans testifying I’m not sure we’d get public sentiment to swing our way.” Derek scratched the scruff on his jaw as he thought of the strength Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall and even Chris Argent had displayed before the war; they’d stood up for the Supernaturals despite being human. 

Stiles really was the piece de resistance of the trial; he was going to put a face on the atrocities the Argents had committed.

Laura grinned at him. The grin was manic and it was freaky, quite frankly. “What?” Derek asked.

“I was just thinking how pleased máthair mhór would be right now. You called them humans.” Laura wasn’t teasing; she was serious. Their grandmother had always held strong opinions and one of them was that humans were as important as werewolves. In fact she’d taught them humans had once held positions of power within packs and could be trusted. 

Derek’s blush made a re-appearance. “I can still hear her voice in the back of my head: Humans, not smoothies, child. She was ahead of her time, wasn’t she? I miss her. I miss everyone.”

His sister pressed a kiss to his cheek. “They would all be proud of you, Derek. I know I am.”

Scrubbing at his cheek, Derek pushed his pleasure at her words down and covered by giving an eye roll and grumbling, “Girl germs, yuck.”

The Hummer pulled up outside of Derek’s apartment building. Laura patted his arm, this time with much less force. “Looks like you’re home sweet home. Please say hi to Stiles for me. I’ll see him tomorrow when we come by for trial prep.”

“Oh yeah. I’ll remind him. He’ll be thrilled.” Derek deadpanned.

“He’s got a nickname for us, doesn’t us?” Laura poked him in the ribs.

“That he does but I’m sworn to secrecy.” Derek turned serious. “Be careful out there, Laura. We don’t know who exactly is behind this and they might be gunning for you, too.” Derek bared his throat as a sign of respect.

Laura acknowledged the gesture by lightly cuffing him on the head. Then she grimaced. “Oh, I know who’s behind it, I just don’t know whose strings he’s pulling. I can’t wait for the trial. Once we get Gerard isolated he won’t be able to cause trouble.”

Derek shared Roscoe’s theory. “You know Stiles believes it’s someone connected with the Resistance. We’re the only ones left alive who know details about San Cielo.”

“We thought of that but it still seems like something the Argents would do. Maybe they’ve got someone on the inside.” Laura tilted her chin, deep in thought.

They didn’t have time to share any other thoughts as Derek’s security opened his door and he was whisked inside. 

He had been happy to see the Wolves and get out of the loft but he wanted to get back to Stiles.

-0-

Stiles enjoyed spending time with Derek’s sisters and of course Lydia was one of his best friends. In theory this afternoon should’ve been enjoyable, at least parts of it, even though they were talking about courtroom strategy.

He just hadn’t realized strategy involved what he should wear and how to style his hair.

Stiles had eschewed Deaton’s concerns over possible PTSD but after an hour of this _debating_ he was feeling very traumatized.

“So can we agree that white button shirt with the dark slim fit chinos? He can wear the fitted suit coat into court but when he’s up on the stand he should lose the jacket,” Cora said from her perch next to him on the couch. She made scratching noises and Stiles thought she was taking notes on a pad of paper. He was a bit flummoxed that anything being discussed here needed to be written down.

Lydia pursed her lips. Stiles didn’t even know he could identify lips pursing, and whose lips, until just now. It had been occurring quite a bit over the last two hours. “I still stay the navy blue suit with light blue shirt is more put together.”

“But I think what Cora is saying that he should look nice but not too nice. Even though he’s obviously human we want to humanize him, get the sympathy vote as it were.” Laura had joined the fray. Sadly she was making no sense whatsoever, at least to Stiles.

Stiles piped up although his input had not been appreciated to this point. “Hello, blind man here! Isn’t that enough of a sympathy vote?”

“No!” Three feminine voices chorused at him. Loudly.

Lydia softened her tone. “He does have a point.”

“Thank you,” Stiles dipped his chin in her direction across the room.

She continued speaking as though he hadn’t even uttered a sound, “The color of his eyes really stand out when he’s wearing white.”

Ugh. Stiles let his head drop against the back of the couch. He couldn’t take this anymore. Rising to his feet, Stiles excused himself.

Cora snagged his hand and he jumped at the contact. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Other than crazy? I thought I’d step outside and get some fresh air.” Stiles tugged his hand to loosen her grip

Cora refused to relinquish. “First of all, you need to stay inside where we can protect you. Second, we’re about to discuss your hair and we need you here for a visual.”

Stiles dropped back down onto the couch cushion heavily. “It’s cruel and unusual punishment, that’s what this is. Why don’t I just buzz it all off?”

“NO!” The female chorus had grown louder if that was possible. 

“Why the hell not? It’s out of hand. I can’t see it but even I can tell it’s a mess.” Stiles folded his arms over his chest. He knew he looked like he was being defensive but that was the point—he was being defensive!

“Stiles,” Lydia sounded like she was about to launch into one of her long and boring lectures, “although the buzz cut makes you look really young, no one would believe that Kate Argent would ever be attracted to that look.”

Stiles didn’t know what expression he had on his face but it must’ve been pained because Cora stepped in to play diplomat. “I know this all feels very intrusive but a part of winning the case is winning in the court of public opinion. We need you to look well groomed, but not too well groomed. Your clothing should be of good quality but not scream wealth. Your hair needs to display your…” her voice trailed off.

“Vulnerability.” Thank you, Laura. Stiles could’ve done without it being pointed out that he was vulnerable. Although when he’d been trying to catch Kate’s eye, that had been the plan—have a little spirit, just enough to attract her notice, while appealing to the side of her that wanted to dominate a vulnerable human.

It sucked then and it sucked now.

A spirited discussion about letting his bangs continue to fall into his eyes _beguilingly_ commenced with more debate about how long to leave the sides and back. His sideburns even rated a discussion.

The front door opened.

“Hey, little brother,” Laura greeted Derek.

Cora and Lydia echoed greetings.

Derek sat down on the other side of Stiles, the cushion dipping down enough that Stiles’s shoulder brushed against the solidity of Derek’s.

Stiles lifted his face for a kiss hello, pleased when Derek’s lips met his own. Maybe this afternoon could be salvaged after all.

-0-

The ladies looked indefatigable but poor Stiles looked pale and out of sorts.

“How goes the style wars?” Derek asked after his lips teased Stiles’s pink, pouty lips. 

“You knew they were going to put me through this? A little warning would’ve been nice.” Stiles elbowed his ribs. 

It was a little harsher than Derek would’ve expected but then again, he’d only ever been on the receiving end of his two-sister tag team; he could only imagine the other dimension of hell Lydia, who always looked ready for a photo op, would bring to this type of discussion.

Derek threw his arm around the back of the couch. He wanted to pull Stiles tighter against his side, his wolf craved the contact, but his boyfriend was putting out disgruntled signals. 

“Hey, are you doing okay?” Derek stared at Stiles’s profile. His mouth was turned down in a frown and there was a wrinkle between his brows. “Do you have a headache?”

Stiles turned toward Derek. “Do you remember that scene in the movie we watched the other night, the one I said people referred to as bored to death? That’s me. I’ve already mentally hanged myself and committed hari-kari. Before you joined me I was contemplating the old gasoline with the lighter trick.”

A chuckle escaped Derek’s mouth unbidden and his sisters paused in their discussion to stare at him. Lydia, most likely accustomed to Stiles’s offbeat sense of humor, just rolled on.

Two nights ago Stiles had persuaded Derek into watching _Airplane_ with him; he said it had been his mother’s favorite comedy and it had some really funny scenes in it. Derek hadn’t been sure what to expect but the cheesy lines and sight gags had tickled Stiles so much his boyfriend’s reaction had made Derek laugh more than the movie. It also gave what Derek hoped was some insight into what made Stiles tick. 

The offbeat sense of humor was possibly inherited, or learned, from his mother just as the way Stiles stared directly into someone’s face with unwavering focus mimicked his father’s mannerism.

“Stiles? Hey, what do you think?” Cora’s question interrupted Derek’s little memory of movie night.

Stiles stiffened next to Derek and then cringed—there was no other word for it, really—against him.

Derek turned to see what caused the disturbance and saw Cora had squeezed Stiles’s thigh. It wasn’t too high or even inappropriate but Derek had a flashback to when Kate Argent had done the same in the bar while getting Stiles drunk. 

Before taking him back to a hotel room and doing things Derek’s mind couldn’t really fathom. 

Actually, his mind could fathom it if it was anything like how Kate had treated him. The difference was at the time Derek had fancied her attentions, completely misguided though he’d been, and Stiles had only endured it for the mission.

The women quieted and Cora withdrew her hand. She peaked around Stiles and looked at Derek. “Is he okay?”

Stiles was not okay. His pupils were blown and he was shaking as though he’d been left outside in below zero temperatures without a coat.

The conversation with Deaton during Stiles’s last physical resounded with Derek; Stiles could suffer after effects from Kate’s assault and the trigger could be innocuous.

Deaton also said to get Stiles somewhere he felt safe and secure should it ever happen.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I think Stiles is done for the day.” That was the only explanation he gave as he swung Stiles into his arms and carried him toward the bedroom.

He could hear residual comments from the women in the living room.

“I didn’t mean anything when I touched him. Is that what set him off?” Cora sounded appropriately horrified that her actions, although well intentioned, could’ve caused Stiles distress.

“Don’t worry, Stiles is one tough cookie. He’ll be fine, you’ll see.” Laura had been the one who gave Stiles the mission and she sounded guilty but optimistic.

“I just hope that doesn’t happen in the courtroom.” Lydia was forever a pragmatist but it was a bit chilling to hear, or even think about.

Derek moved as close to the head of the bed as he could get before sitting down. He leaned against the mountains of pillows piled against the headboard, pulling Stiles with him. Leaning over he grabbed the comforter and tugged it over, enveloping Stiles in it as much as he could.

Stiles quivered and shook in his arms, little noises of distress leaking from his mouth. Stiles’s eyes were wide open, staring, pupils blown wide until only a thin ring of purple was left.

“Stiles, can you hear me? You’re with me. In bed. Warm and safe. The wolf isn’t going to let anyone hurt you here.” Derek crooned the words right into Stiles’s ear, hauling him as close as he dared without breaking one of his ribs or bruising him.

Derek found himself humming, and rocking, the quaking man.

Distressed noises dissipated first, then the shivering tapered off.

Stiles rubbed the side of his face against Derek’s. “Were you humming _Bohemian Rhapsody_ to me?” His voice sounded wrecked, whisper soft and cracking, but he was right—Derek had been humming Queen.

“I guess I was,” Derek responded. “Is that okay?”

“I think so. I recognized it at least.” Stiles resumed radio silence.

Derek, unsure of how to address the panic attack, sweltered beneath the combined heat of the comforter and Stiles’s body. Perspiration beaded then trickled down the side of the face.

Stiles drew back, huffing, incredulous. “Are you crying?”

“Sweating. Copiously.” Derek was happy to provide comfort but he was about to spontaneously combust if he didn’t gain some separation from Stiles and the trapping weight of the comforter.

Crinkling his nose up in that adorable way that always got to Derek, Stiles slid off of his lap. “Let me up.”

Derek kept his arm wrapped around Stiles’s waist until he was upright. Shoving the comforter away, Derek quickly joined him next to the bed. He plucked his t-shirt away from his body, enjoying the cooler air.

Stiles fidgeted next to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Do you want to talk about it?” Derek held his breath, waiting for the response.

“Not yet.” Stiles sighed. “I can’t believe Deaton was right.” He sounded a bit disgusted.

“We don’t have to tell him he was right. If you want to talk to someone about…stuff,” he settled on that word, not because he was afraid to call a spade or spade or in this case a rape, but because he didn’t want to accidentally trigger Stiles again, “we’ll find you someone you trust.”

A shaky smile lit up Stiles’s face. “Yeah, that would be good. I don’t know what it is but I don’t trust that guy.”

“He really doesn’t trust Roscoe,” Derek scrunched his nose up when he said that name, “and I think that causes some tension.”

Stiles’s lips curved in a more natural smile. “You know you’re not just a pretty face, I don’t care what your sisters say about you.”

Derek barked out a laugh. “Never listen to what my sisters say about me. Lies, I tell you, all lies.”

Holding his hand out, Stiles waited for Derek to take it.

The warmth of his hand enveloped the cooler, clammy hand held out to him.

Derek didn’t know how exactly to support Stiles through what he was going through but every day he fell a little harder for the man.

-0-

“Why did Gerard and Kate Argent blame you for Allison Argent’s death?” Cora’s question threw Stiles for a loop. They’d practiced a variation of this question during testimony prep but not this exact phrasing.

Stiles wasn’t sure how to answer. He was under oath and that actually meant something to him. Not to mention the courtroom was filled with living lie detectors in the form of the werewolves in attendance. He’d tried so hard to keep the truth from his friend but he supposed it no longer served a purpose.

“Do you need me to repeat the question, Mr. Stilinski?” Cora always sounded so serious. He knew that was appropriate for this venue but he missed the flirty tomboy of his youth.

“Allison and I weren’t supposed to be off campus that night. There was a curfew in place but we had an errand to run.” Stiles took a sip of water from the glass at his elbow. The cool liquid quenched his parched throat. It took a bit of concentration but he set it back on the flat edge separating him from the judge without making a mess.

“For the record, what night are you speaking of?” Cora coaxed the details out of him.

Stiles grimaced. “June fifth, the night of the Purple Bomb.”

“Thank you for that clarification. So what errand were you running?”

He wanted to rub his forehead and ease the pain gathering there but he knew those who read body language would interpret as a tell. He wasn’t lying though—he had a tension headache. “I said we were off campus that night because I needed to sneak a message to my secret girlfriend and I didn’t want to go alone so Allison came with me.”

“Asshole.” That would be Isaac. 

“Order in the court!” The Honorable Tara Graeme banged her gavel on the stand, making Stiles jump. Someone shushed Isaac with a hiss, either Lydia or Scott probably, and the court settled down.

“So there was no secret girlfriend?” Cora prodded more.

“Um, no. I’m gay? Like on the Kinsey scale I’m at least a solid five and a half. ”

Stiles heard something that sounded like skin on skin contact, a hand slapping a forehead most likely, and was pretty sure that was his dad. “Jesus, Stiles.” Yep, definitely his dad. 

Sheriff Stilinski was not homophobic and didn’t care his son was gay; Stiles thought his dad was upset because Stiles was over-sharing. Again.

Cora continued her line of questioning, “So were you meeting a secret boyfriend?”

“No. Allison wanted to meet her ex boyfriend but wanted to keep it quiet.” Silence from the side where the earlier ‘asshole’ comment had come met his words.

“Do you know why Allison wanted to meet with her ex boyfriend?”

“Objection!” Opposing counsel Adrian Harris barked. “Conjecture.”

“Sustained.”

“Let me rephrase. What did Allison tell you were her reasons for wanting to meet her ex boyfriend?” Cora sounded amused but maybe Stiles was projecting.

“There were two reasons we were sneaking off campus that night to speak with Scott McCall. First Allison thought she knew what had happened to our parents, Chris Argent and Noah Stilinski, and also Scott McCall’s mom, Melissa, and she wanted to tell Scott about it. Without hurting Isaac’s feelings.” Stiles’s voice was gaining strength. Apparently the saying was right—the truth shall set you free. 

“And why did Allison think that would be troubling to her then boyfriend?”

“Her current boyfriend was a werewolf and so was her ex. They were also close friends. Allison didn’t want to add undue stress on any of those relationships.” At the time it had made sense. With five years perspective it all seemed so juvenile. Then again they’d been young.

Cora redirected his attention so he could address the more important reason for slipping off of campus. “What other reason did she cite for wanting to use discretion?”

Stiles licked his dry lips. “Allison suspected her grandfather, Gerard Argent, was keeping our parents locked up somewhere and that was something we didn’t want getting out. For our own safety and anyone else who might have supported us.” 

Someone whispered furiously and Stiles imagined it was Gerard. He was relieved he didn’t have to have any contact beyond sitting in the same room as the older man. In this one regard his vision deficit was a blessing; he didn’t have to see the old man. Argent seriously gave him the creeps and that was just when Stiles knew him as Allison’s grandfather.

Other people in the galley were murmuring softly; yes, Allison and Stiles had been young and dumb but not completely stupid. If what they’d suspected had gotten out, they might’ve found themselves locked up and unable to do anything. As it was, Allison lost her life and it was through the actions of Gerard and Kate Argent.

Cora continued, “Did Allison tell you why she suspected her grandfather of spiriting away and locking up these individuals so well known in the community?”

“We knew through Scott’s pack bond with his mother that Ms. McCall was still alive. My father, too. Ms. McCall, Mr. Argent and my father all shared pro supernatural sentiments. Allison died before I found out why she suspected her grandfather specifically but he definitely wasn’t pro supernatural.” Stiles kept his voice moderated, his tempo and volume steady. 

He still got very angry when he remembered that time in his life. He’d lost his mother at a young age and then the stupidity of the anti supernatural movement made what should have been an exciting time in his life, college, miserable. The cherry on the top was the disappearance of his dad.

Cora cleared her throat; she was quite good with courtroom dramatics. The quiet tittering rippling through the crowd died out. “I believe that’s all for this witness. Would the defense like to cross examine?”

Stiles would recognize the nasal uptight voice of Adrian Harris anywhere. “The defense would like to request a recess at this time.”

He jumped as the gavel banged without warning. “Very well. We’ll reconvene at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning. Be late at your own peril.” The Honorable Graeme sounded as though she needed a break, too. 

Someone took Stiles’s arm and helped him step down from the stand. “I need to meet with Laura. I’ll call you later so I can make sure you’re ready for cross-examination tomorrow. You did good, Stiles.” Cora squeezed the back of his neck, a sign of affection and also a calming tactic, and then she left in a cloud of subtle perfume.

Derek grabbed his hand; Stiles squeezed it gratefully. He was feeling exhausted even though he’d done nothing except sit and talk, something he’d always excelled at.

Stiles could hear the sounds of Gerard and his counsel being escorted from the room. The bailiffs shooed anyone else not associated with the Resistance out of the courtroom next. Stiles was supposed to wait for Laura’s security detail to escort him to the safe house. He didn’t know why he had to wait when Derek’s unit, the Wolves, were right here in the courtroom. The day had been a dog-and-pony show, or a shit show depending on how one looked at it, and Stiles was ready to unwind.

“Stiles, can we talk?” Isaac sounded subdued. 

Stiles knew the werewolf had blamed him for Allison’s death and it had been a bitter pill to swallow but he hadn’t seen the sense in making Isaac doubt his relationship with his girlfriend. He and Allison hadn’t wanted to put Isaac in danger so for a long time he’d held his silence. It was the same reason Lydia hadn’t known anything until after Stiles had recovered. He’d thought, mistakenly, Isaac would eventually come around on his own. They’d been friends, or at least friend adjacent, but Stiles had miscalculated how long Isaac would hold on to his anger. 

Before Stiles could respond something pinched the skin at the side of Stiles’s neck. “Ouch!” He staggered to the side and might’ve lost his balance if Derek hadn’t thrown an arm around him keeping him upright.

“Let me see.” Derek tugged and whatever was sticking out of his neck was dislodged.

Stiles slapped his hand over the site. “What was that?”

“Looks like a small dart.” Isaac was still nearby.

“I don’t like how it smells. I don’t recognize it.” Derek’s answer was distracted.

Stiles understood completely; he was distracted himself by how difficult it was to catch his breath.

“What did you do?” Lydia’s strident voice made Stiles’s ears ring.

“I did what I had to do.” Stiles recognized Deaton’s smug tone.

“You had to poison him?” Derek growled; it was low and menacing. 

Poison? The Purple Bomb had poisoned Stiles with wolfsbane. Kate had poisoned him in the bar back in San Cielo and if it hadn’t been for Roscoe, he would’ve died.

The AI was gone. Stiles didn’t like his chances.

“I introduced something into Mr. Stilinski’s system that the AI should easily be able to counteract.” Deaton’s explanation left a lot to be desired.

“You do remember removing the AI-unit from my body in the hospital, right?” Stiles barely recognized his own voice; it cracked and wheezed and he didn’t think that was just from adrenaline.

“I don’t think the procedure was a success. I’m going to remedy that now. Balance must be maintained. A weapon of that magnitude destroys the balance.” Deaton didn’t make a damn lick of sense.

Scott seemed to agree. “You’re joking, right? Come on, Alan. I mean where was the balance when they dropped the Purple Bomb?” His friend sounded heart broken; Scott had always put a lot of trust in the druid.

“The Purple Bomb was regrettable. Over one thousand lives were lost but the AI could easily destroy millions.” Deaton’s voice rose with his emotions. This was the most agitated Stiles had ever witnessed in the usually stoic man.

“And yet nothing has happened. Justice was to be served by the War Crimes tribunal. Who do you think you are, judge, jury and executioner?” Erica, who distrusted the AI with every fiber of her being, sounded incensed on Roscoe’s behalf. Or maybe on Stiles’s behalf or just at the injustice of it all.

“Fix him.” That was Boyd. Stiles always had liked Boyd.

Stiles leaned more heavily against Derek. He wanted to sit down but the effort was more than he could make.

“There’s no antidote for the compound. I have every faith the AI will   
intervene on Mr. Stilinski’s behalf.” Deaton actually didn’t sound so sure at the moment.

Stiles was sure—the AI was not in his body. The AI was at home. Stiles was fucked.

“You idiot. The AI is gone.” Derek’s snarl rumbled through his chest. The vibration was soothing to Stiles.

“We need to get him to the hospital.” Scott was clearly agitated.

“Who let them in?” Isaac sounded distressed.

Stiles never knew who had joined the supposedly locked courthouse room.

A loud buzzing filled his ears and his knees gave out.

Derek’s fast reflexes were the difference between Stiles meeting the hard tiled floor and being gathered against werewolf warmth.

-0-

Derek went down to one knee, cradling Stiles in his arms. Stiles stared skyward, slowly blinking, his eyes that beautiful but startling electric indigo.

“Stiles?” Derek gave his boyfriend a careful shake. “Stay with me,” he pleaded.

Stiles’s heart skipped, then slowed.

“Derek,” Stiles swallowed, clenching his eyes closed for a moment.

Derek hoped when Stiles opened his eyes again they would be that soulful brown instead of electric indigo. The AI could save Stiles. It had happened before. 

Eyelids snapped back up to reveal the cursed color from the Purple Bomb, dashing Derek’s hopes. He knew the AI had left Stiles’s body but he’d thought that before and had been wrong.

Stiles lifted his hand and patted it, missing Derek’s cheek and softly making contact with the side of his neck. Derek softly gathered the cold hand in one of his, placing it against his own chest, next to his heart. 

“Don’t leave me,” Derek whispered. His wolf set up a clamor in the back of his mind.

“I don’t want to leave but I don’t think I have a choice,” Stiles whispered back.

Derek swallowed a sob. He’d lost most of his family, many friends and comrades, and now this…

“Hey, Derek, I want you to know I’ve had some of the worst times in my life since I met you.” Derek cracked a wobbly smile at Stiles’s words; for someone with the supposed gift of gab, he managed to say some inappropriate for the moment things. 

Stiles took a gasping breath. “Also some of the best times. Ever. All’s I ever wanted was to love and be loved. You gave that to me. Thank you,” Stiles exhaled the words in a breathy gust.

Despite his advanced sight, Derek couldn’t see through the tears blurring his vision. This was the first time Stiles had admitted he loved Derek. He felt the same and it was only right he said the words aloud. “I do love you.”

Silence greeted his pronouncement.

Complete silence.

No labored breathing.

No heartbeat.

Eyes still staring sightlessly, gaze fixed in a slack face.

Derek threw his head back and howled. “Noooo!!!!!”

“Oh, yes. It seems as though your little pet human is gone. He killed both my granddaughter and daughter, you know. Good riddance, I say.” Gerard Argent stood ten feet away, arms crossed over his chest, sneering.

Carefully setting Stiles on the floor, Derek rose to his feet and surveyed the area. Fanned out behind him were the Wolves in addition to Scott and Lydia. In front of him were Gerard, his new lieutenant, Tamora Monroe, and about fifteen of his armed minions.

This was the time to act. He’d go after the head hunter and then take care of the druid later. 

Pressure built within the closed room. Couldn’t anyone else feel it?

Lydia. The Banshee was about to wail the passing of Stiles.

No one else seemed bothered. How could they ignore the coming blast? 

Before he could complete his shift and make his move, the lights overhead sparked.

Every piece of electrical equipment sparked. The smoke detectors, speaker system, cell phones…even the earbuds the majority of the Smoothies wore.

Lydia’s wail ripped loose.

Without looking Derek knew all of the Supes covered their ears and went down on bended knee. Some of the Smoothies followed suit. Some of the Smoothies collapsed on the ground.

The Smoothies still upright soon joined their brethren on the ground as the scream echoed around the room.

Seventeen sets of heartbeats went silent between beats.

How had Gerard left Lydia unaccounted for with his little plan? It was like some demented suicide run. Maybe, just maybe, Gerard thought the death of the hunters at a banshee’s hand, or vocal cords, would turn public sentiment against the Supernaturals.

Derek’s attention shifted to Deaton. The man put his hands up, beseeching. “I had to restore the balance. You have to see that.”

Stalking toward his new prey, Derek paused when Deaton backed himself into the wall. Blood leaked sluggishly from one ear.

“But why kill Stiles?” Lydia, voice like nails on a chalkboard after her scream, croaked. “He didn’t do anything.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill Stiles. I wanted the AI to show itself. I thought it was still within Stiles. The AI must be stopped.” Deaton pleaded his case but his posture drooped. Defeated or resigned, Derek didn’t care which.

_Hello, my name is human._

His friends had all heard that creepy mechanical voice before in San Cielo and they all stepped back, bracing themselves. The words echoed through the room. How had Roscoe found his way here?

The AI sent a pulse of energy through the room. It arced and sparked and filled the room with bright light.

_Druid, you are not worthy of restoring the balance._

The AI’s voice rang out from the speaker system, coming at them from all directions.

Deaton looked upward, searching, mouth parted in awe, maybe vindication. “I knew you were still here.”

A pulse of energy streaked from overhead, striking the druid.

Deaton collapsed to the ground.

Derek could still hear a strong human heartbeat. He tipped his head upward, seeking the nearest speaker. “He’s still alive.”

_He will pay a steep penance for his actions. He no longer has the wherewithal to be a druid. I believe I fried his circuits._

The AI sounded smug, if smug could be achieved through a synthesized voice. Stiles’s influence couldn’t be ignored either; the man had a twisted sense of humor.

Stiles. Derek whirled around to find Lydia and Scott kneeling next to Stiles.

_I suggest you all stand back._

Everyone scrambled to do the AI’s bidding. Except for Derek. He kneeled down and pulled Stiles back into his arms, cradling him close to his chest. The body was already cooling.

A gentle red light bathed the room this time and another bolt of energy zapped from overhead, striking Stiles’s chest.

Right over his heart.

Stiles jerked in Derek’s arms. Raw energy cascaded through Derek’s body, his muscles twitching and jerking.

Before Derek could set the body down, Stiles heaved again, a great gasping breath shuddering through his body.

“Let me through,” Melissa McCall commanded. She dropped a black bag on the ground and withdrew a stethoscope. Derek hadn’t heard her approach, distracted by Stiles’s resurrection.

Everyone in the room still standing formed a ring around Melissa, Derek and the quivering man in his arms.

“We have a heartbeat. Let’s get him to the hospital.” Melissa looked up, tears streaking her face. “I can’t believe he’s alive.”

Derek had forgotten the proceedings in the room were being recorded by closed circuit TV. Roscoe had probably fried those circuits as well, concealing his presence.

Electric indigo irises peaked at Derek through partially closed eyelids.

Derek had hoped Roscoe was present within Stiles again but far more importantly, Stiles was present.

-0-

Stiles stretched from his perch on the couch. “Derek, could I please have some ice cream?”

His appetite was still off after his stay in the hospital but he enjoyed shakes and ice cream. Calories were calories after all so no one put up a fuss.

Derek heaved a sigh but Stiles was pretty sure it was solely for his benefit. Who knew his boyfriend was such a drama queen? At least the wolf enjoyed pampering and spoiling Stiles if not the great warrior leader of the Wolves.

Footfalls approached and Stiles straightened on the couch, leaning his back into the corner so he was somewhat upright.

Something clicked onto the glass surface of the coffee table. “Are you really going to make the blind man find his own sustenance?”

His boyfriend lifted his legs without warning, tickling the bottom of his feet. It was a good thing Stiles was wearing socks or he’d be incapacitated with the giggles right now. “Yes, Stiles, I’m going to sit here and watch you find the bowl and then laugh as you smear chocolate all over your face.”

“Chocolate? I thought you said we were out of Rocky Road!” Stiles shifted higher on the couch back, anticipation for his favorite flavor building.

“We were out. I got you some more. Do you really think I’d let you run out of your favorite?” Derek set Stiles’s legs down, stretching them over his lap. 

Stiles smiled. “You’re too good to me.”

Derek really had spoiled Stiles since he had awakened in the hospital. Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what all had happened after Deaton had poisoned him. He’d asked Scott, Lydia, Melissa, even his dad, but they all gave a variation of the same response—patted his hand or knee and assured him what was important was that he was still alive and he shouldn’t dwell on anything else. The one source he thought he could trust stayed silent on the subject as well.

Despite his insatiable curiosity, he decided to let it go. Everyone seemed determined to keep him in the dark about what had gone down at the courthouse and in this instance he would let sleeping dogs lie. Or would that be sleeping werewolves? In any case the nightmares had abated, he was getting healthy—as healthy as possible at least—and he was happy.

“Here, open up and I’ll give you a hand.” Derek always spoke softly to him now and touched him carefully. 

Stiles opened his mouth and Derek delivered a spoon full of the chocolaty goodness filled with nuts and marshmallows. “Mmmm. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Derek’s voice was low and gruff.

Did Stiles enjoy playing the invalid and being fed? No, he did not. But Derek enjoyed it and whatever the hell had happened while he was unconscious, his boyfriend deserved some measure of peace.

“Laura said she’d probably drop by later. Would that be okay?” Derek asked between conveying mouthfuls of ice cream to his lips.

Stiles cocked an eyebrow. He was pretty certain he was facing Derek but it was hard to differentiate sometimes unless Derek was in the act of speaking. He’d been blind after the bombing before the AI had restored his sight and he had that experience to draw on so re-acclimating to blindness shouldn’t be so difficult. Yet it was. Being sightless sucked. It beat being dead though.

Laura Hale was still the Commander of the Resistance. For once the Resistance had gained the upper hand. Maybe it was time to rename it something else.

Pushing aside that thought, Stiles cleared his throat. “You do know this is your place right? You can have anyone over here you want. Well, almost anyone.” Stiles would put his foot down if a certain druid were allowed entry. Apparently either Lydia’s banshee wail had done a number on Deaton or Roscoe had and the doctor’s memory had been wiped. Stiles still didn’t trust him.

Derek leaned forward and something clicked as it made contact with the table; either the ice cream was gone or they were going to have a heart to heart.

“This isn’t just my place, it’s ours.” Derek’s voice drifted closer and Stiles leaned forward, anticipating contact. Preferably of the mouth-to-mouth variety.

He was disappointed when Derek’s warm hand cupped the side of his face. 

“Fine, it’s ours. When did you say Laura might stop by?” Stiles rubbed his cheek against the warmth. 

“In about an hour. Why?” Derek’s face must be even closer based on the nearness of his voice.

Stiles lunged forward, pressing his lips against whatever skin he could find.

A cheek if he wasn’t mistaken. He’d wanted the lips, damn it.

The next time Derek spoke, Stiles would be prepared. Like a heat seeking missile he’d plant his lips on Derek’s—

“What has gotten into—mrppphhh.” 

Direct strike! Stiles would’ve given a fist pump but he didn’t want to smack his boyfriend by mistake.

The kiss began gently, as all interactions with Derek did these days, but quickly gained intensity. Stiles loved the texture and taste of Derek’s mouth and he prided himself on being an excellent kisser.

Derek finally broke the steamy contact between them. “Oh, I think I know what’s gotten into you.”

Stiles’s face broke into a huge grin. “Rocky Road ice cream. And now I’d like something else in me if you can arrange that.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Derek laughed. It didn’t happen often and sometimes Stiles thought there was an edge to it but nothing pleased him more than making the sourwolf laugh.

“Your wish is my command,” Derek scooped Stiles against his chest without warning and Stiles whooped at the dizzying sensation as he was lifted into the air.

Stiles had the path to the bed memorized so he was braced for it when Derek lowered him. He caught Derek around the back and pulled him off balance.

The larger man grunted as his body collided with Stiles. “Are you trying to hurt yourself?”

“Nope, I’m just letting you know I’m impatient.”

Warmth cupped his groin. Stiles definitely liked the higher body temperature of his boyfriend. It heated him up in all sorts of ways, especially when the warmer than average werewolf’s hand touched his erection. Pure heaven.

Maybe for the first time since the mission with the AI began, Stiles felt whole. He might be missing his sight but he’d gained so much more.

Humans and Supernaturals could live together. Case in point, Derek and Stiles.

The digital audio player on the docking station next to the bed erupted into white noise. Derek jerked back, muscles tensed, on high alert.

“Roscoe, a little privacy, please?” Stiles groaned. 

Ready or not, AIs were also here. At least his AI was here and he’d named it after the beloved Jeep his mother had left for him. That’s what the AI got for sometimes taking on Claudia Stilinski’s voice.

_Of course, Stiles._

The voice was high and smooth; he wasn’t sure how accurate it was but that’s how Stiles remembered his mother sounding.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” Derek lowered his weight back down, covering Stiles with his heat.

Stiles snorted. “Forget about Roscoe for now. We have more important things to think about at the moment.” He nibbled on the side of Derek’s neck, in the spot that drove him crazy.

Derek would make him whole on a different level.

Supernaturals might have the physiological edge but being human wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

-0-

Derek stared at the ceiling, subconsciously counting Stiles’s heartbeats. His boyfriend had fallen asleep pretty quickly after the very athletic sex they’d indulged in and Derek didn’t want to disturb him so he stayed put.

_Derek, how is Stiles?_

The feminine voice whispered to him. It was bad enough when Stiles named the AI Roscoe but apparently now he sounded like a she, most specifically like Stiles’s mother.

It was a bit disorientating to be snuggling, or otherwise occupying yourself, with your boyfriend in the bedroom and the boyfriend’s mother blurted out a question.

Derek had many unanswered questions himself, mainly surrounding the events at the courthouse—like how had Roscoe made his way from the loft to that room across town and how had he resuscitated Stiles with a bolt of energy? 

He just wasn’t sure he would like the answers so he left the words unsaid. 

_Derek._

Roscoe had learned to hiss now, reminiscent of how Lydia or even his sisters sometimes did when trying to catch someone’s attention, aggravation leaking through the sibilant noise.

“I think Stiles is doing fine. He hasn’t deteriorated since his last physical as far as I can tell.” Derek whispered back.

Stiles gave a moue of displeasure, shifting against Derek’s chest.

Derek waited to see if Stiles would awaken but he resumed his steady respirations.

_Do you promise you would tell me if there was a problem?_

In that moment Roscoe sounded less like someone’s mother and more like a child seeking reassurance.

_I love him._

That was very sweet and Derek believe the AI whole-heartedly.

“I know you do. So do I. I promise I’ll tell you if there’s a problem. And Roscoe? Thank for looking out for him.” His thanks were quiet but heartfelt.

Derek didn’t doubt Roscoe was evolving. The pace at which he learned was astounding.

In many ways Roscoe was a much better man than the non-AI beings running around this city. He—she—had a huge capacity for love and wasn’t going to use his or her strength for anything malicious, at least as far as Derek could tell.

Stiles had been an excellent guide to Roscoe, teaching the AI about the best humanity had to offer.

Hadn’t Stiles done the same to Derek? He was finally ready to part ways with the guilt over how his actions had resulted in the death of most of his family. 

Derek was taking his chances on loving Stiles and on the new world order. He had no doubts that his human partner and his trusty AI sidekick would make Derek’s life interesting.

He’d never been more at peace with the thought.

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> And that's a wrap for the hurt/comfort prompt resurrection. It was fun to revisit this 'verse. The scene with Cora, Laura and Lydia deciding on Stiles's attire for his court room appearance was without a doubt the most fun to write.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
